


Normal Is Relative

by luthien82



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, unfeasible acrobatics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luthien82/pseuds/luthien82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their working relationship has been unconventional at best so far. Why should their first kiss be any different?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Normal Is Relative

**Author's Note:**

> More or less inspired by **foxxcub** and her [Avengers Kissing Meme](http://foxxcub.livejournal.com/764068.html). Trust my brain to go a weird route with it.
> 
> Many, many thanks to [chatona](http://archiveofourown.org/users/chatona) for looking this over.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The Avengers is the property of Marvel Studios, Paramount Pictures, Joss Whedon and a whole lot of other people who are not me. No money is being made by the creation of this piece of fan work. No harm is intended, it's all in good fun.

* * *

“For the record: I don’t like this.”

Phil suppressed a sigh and paused, his fingers poised over the keyboard he’d been typing on.

“Acknowledged, Agent Barton,” he replied quietly, resuming his earlier task. “The objective remains the same.”

He heard Clint’s sigh over the comm unit and had to bite down on his smile. This was slowly becoming a problem. He was becoming too attached to him, and that wasn’t really a good idea between field agents, much less between handler and asset.

“Not to step on your toes or anything, sir,” Clint piped up again and Phil closed his eyes briefly to pray for patience. “But you aren’t exactly out in the field much,” Clint finished.

Phil almost didn’t stop the snort in time. “Are you questioning my field status, Agent Barton?” Phil asked in a deliberately calm, passionless tone. It had the desired effect.

“Of course not, sir.” There was a pause during which Phil worked at high speed to get the damn information off the computer. Of course, Clint being _Clint_ , he couldn’t shut up for more than a minute.

“Permission to change location for easier backup.”

Phil barely even thought about it before he replied, “Granted.” Clint would move no matter what Phil said, so it was better to give him permission instead of risking a warning for insubordination. The man sure had enough of those in his file already.

“Moving now, sir,” Phil heard Clint’s quiet voice, then an indistinct rustling sound.

“I’d ask what was wrong with the old backup location,” Phil said apropos of nothing while typing, “but I have a pretty clear idea what your answer will be.”

“Not close enough to save your hide in time?” Clint asked, and Phil _knew_ he was smiling. Phil shook his head, suppressing his own amusement.

“Something like that.”

“You know me too well, sir.”

Phil was about to retort with something appropriately snappy but it was then that the computer beeped at him. He stopped typing, a triumphant grin blooming on his face. “Gotcha.”

“Sir?”

“Transferring data now,” Phil answered, patting the small gadget now sitting in the USB slot that functioned as a transmitter to a secure server at SHIELD. He risked a quick look to the door to check if all was still quiet. Looked like it.

“Remind me why we had to send you in?” Clint’s voice rang over the comm once again.

Phil watched the status bar slowly creep to 100%, his hands still poised over the keyboard in case something went wrong. Clint’s question barely registered but he answered it anyway, “Because out of the two of us, I know how to hack into this system and Black Widow is not within reach to be of assistance. Our window of opportunity was closing fast and we need this data to dismantle the sleeper cell we’ve been tracking for the past two months. Is that answer sufficient enough for you, Agent Barton?”

It was eerily quiet for a beat, then, “Yes, sir.”

Phil nodded to himself, not bothering to answer. The data transfer was finally complete and Phil let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Coulson to Command.”

“Command here,” came the impromptu reply through his earpiece.

“Data has been successfully transferred and should be arriving any moment,” he said, pocketing the transmitter.

“Acknowledged.”

There was a beat of silence, then, “Data transfer received and complete. Get out of there, Agent.”

“On my way,” Phil said, already en route to the door. He opened it a few inches and looked out into the corridor. It was clear so he opened the door fully and slid outside. He turned left on his direct way outside and was only a few feet away from the corner into the next hallway when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Crap.” The word was out before he could help it. He ignored Clint’s inquiring, “Sir?” in his ear and tried to hurry to the corner as silently as he could, hoping he would make it before whoever was coming up the hall could spot him. His hope was in vain.

“Hey!”

He barely heard the shout before he was running. Crap, crap, _crap_. He heard two sets of footfalls following him rapidly while one of them was speaking rapidly, requesting backup. Phil knew he wouldn’t be able to run his way out of this joint, especially not if they had radios. He was calculating in his head how many rounds he would be able to shoot with his gun when something on the ceiling a few feet down the hall started moving. Suddenly there was a pair of arms dangling from the ceiling, quickly followed by Clint’s upper body.

Their eyes met and Phil knew exactly what was going to happen, what he was supposed to do. He _really_ didn’t want to but _fuck_ if he had much of a choice here.

‘This is going to hurt,’ he thought distantly before he increased his speed as much as he could, raised his arms and grabbed Clint’s forearms without hesitation. And then he was flying up, hauled into the ceiling by a pair of strong arms. And he’d been right, his shoulders would hurt like a _bitch_ tomorrow. But then his world tilted and he was pressed against a firm chest, rolled to the side and wow, Clint really _did_ grow up in a circus because the whole thing didn’t even take five seconds before Phil’s back was against the ventilation wall with Clint’s body pressing him into it. And Phil had no idea how he’d done it, but the ceiling tile was back in place as well.

“Package secured,” he heard Clint murmur right next to his ear and in his other ear through the comm unit, producing a weird ricochet.

“Acknowledged,” Command said over the comm. “Maintain radio silence until perimeter has been secured by Black Widow.”

“Copy that,” Phil rasped and clicked a button to mute his comm unit, seeing Clint do the same. Then they both fell silent.

And just in time too, because not even a second later they could hear footfalls and loud voices right under them. Clint’s body tensed up against his, his hand tightening its grip on Phil’s hip and, huh, when had _that_ landed there?

Phil’s heart was still beating like a jackhammer from running fast and the excess adrenaline coursing through his body. He tried to get his breathing back under control too, and only Clint’s deep, purposefully calm breaths helped him manage that. He breathed in when Clint exhaled, making their chests press against each other in a strange give and take. Phil didn’t really care, it was oddly soothing.

The adrenaline was slowly subsiding to a manageable level, still hyper aware of the guards right under their hiding place. But the fog in his head had cleared and he was able to concentrate on more than the immediate threat.

That’s when he really noticed how close Clint’s face was to his own and that warm breath was fanning over his lips with every careful exhale. His body tensed out of reflex, making Clint alert as well. Their eyes met and Phil could read the question in Clint’s eyes, asking him if he’d heard anything that needed immediate attention and/or departure. Phil shook his head just a fraction, signaling that it was nothing, just a reflex. Clint’s body relaxed, but his eyes didn’t move away from Phil’s.

The silence between them was suddenly charged, and with every exhale against Phil’s lips, it intensified. It was a reflex that had Phil lick his lips at one point. Clint’s gaze trailed down, staring at his mouth. Then he swallowed, his throat clicking.

Phil was instantly, painfully hard.

Clint’s gaze moved back up to Phil’s eyes, questioning again but looking for a completely different answer this time. And Phil didn’t have the strength anymore to say no to this. He’d wanted to do this for a very long time now and Clint seemed to be on the same page here. So Phil shut his own inner voice up for once, prayed he hadn’t misinterpreted this after all, and let his gaze fall down to Clint’s mouth.

The hand on Phil’s hip tightened again, and when he looked back up, Clint’s pupils were blown and he looked almost _hungry_. Only the fact that they were still more or less in shark waters prevented Phil from groaning at the sight.

Later, he wouldn’t be able to tell who had leaned in first, or if they’d met in the middle, but one moment Phil was staring at Clint’s mouth again, and the next they were breathing against each other, into each other, tasting and carefully mapping out each other’s lips.

Clint, always more daring and braver than he let on, was the first to bring tongue into the mix. It slid carefully against Phil’s lips and over them _into_ his mouth, curling around his own tongue. They never moved an inch, but Phil still felt as if they moved closer to each other, Clint crowding him back into the wall and deepening the kiss further.

Phil sucked on Clint’s tongue, urging him deeper into his mouth. He exhaled through his nose when Clint suddenly started a deep, purposeful rhythm, fucking him with his tongue. It was a dare, he knew, to goad Phil into reacting with equal force and putting him back into place. But Phil didn’t rise to the challenge, instead curled his tongue sensually around Clint’s and stopped his assault, slowing the kiss down. Their mouths broke away from each other for a second, both of them panting against their spit-slick lips and sending a shiver down Phil’s spine.

Then Clint’s mouth was back on his, less forceful than before but still just as eager and demanding. Phil met him with equal desperation, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could roll Clint to his back and slide on top of him to grind against his hip, suck on his neck and play out every dirty fantasy he’d kept hidden in the back of his mind.

He heard a low, barely audible sound leave Clint’s throat, swallowed eagerly by Phil’s mouth. He nipped on Clint’s lower lip, soothing it with his tongue before sliding it back between Clint’s lips, nudging against his tongue. He could feel Clint smile against his lips and was defenseless against it; he smiled back. The kiss dissolved a little after that, but neither of them minded much.

Their lips were still clinging a little to each other when Natasha’s voice rang over the comm, “Perimeter is secured.”

Phil’s whole body froze, listening to any voices or footsteps under them but was greeted by silence. He swallowed a couple of times before he pressed the button to reactivate the comm unit and mumbled, “Copy that. We’re on our way out.”

He hit the button again, then looked at Clint. His face was a little flushed and his eyes a little guarded, as if he was waiting for a rejection.

As if Phil would be stupid enough to let this go, now that he knew he could have it.

“You and I,” he said, his voice becoming throaty and startling himself with how wrecked he sounded, “we’re going to get out of here and back to base, where we’ll debrief and let medical check us out. And when everybody is satisfied, you’re going to follow me home and we’re going to continue this. You with me, Agent Barton?”

He could see the smile blooming on Clint’s face with every word Phil had spoken. They stared at each other for another brief silence before Clint leaned over, pressed a quick, hard kiss against Phil’s mouth and mumbled, “Copy that, sir.”

Phil smiled in reply, put his hand against Clint’s cheek and pulled him closer for another brief kiss before they rolled away from each other and crawled out of the ceiling.

He’d been right: his shoulders _did_ hurt like a bitch the next day, but the warm body pressed against him in the bed made up for a lot of that. He smiled into the pillow, pushed himself back against Clint and went back to sleep.


End file.
